


One Golden Coin

by p_totel



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Older Man/Younger Man, i dont even know how else to tag it, petyr is just a slut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:47:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28983609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_totel/pseuds/p_totel
Summary: Littlefinger comes to ask Tywin Lannister to borrow The Crown some more money.  As he usually does.
Relationships: Petyr Baelish/Tywin Lannister, i think i pioneered this tag
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Crown coins

**Author's Note:**

> i'm laughing. i can't believe this hasn't been done yet?! and the potential... oh, the potential. 😭

"Lord Tywin."

A light smile danced on the lips of lord Baelish as he stood with his huge treasury book under arm at the entrance of Tywin's war tent.

"Lord Baelish." Tywin barely rose his eyebrow. There was ever only one reason for that face's visit, and it always boiled down to one thing -

Money.

Baelish stood there for a few seconds before Tywin cocked his head to the side, giving him permission to enter. The way younger man hopped forward was so transparent - like a regular ass-kisser, except truly - a professional one. It was obvious he had already thought of the meeting and formed his words, prepared his case, and plotted out his movements.

Tywin saw this little approach work on hundreds of men.  
It was truly impressive - the way a young boy from a non-existent house pushed himself to the highest ranks by giving compliments left and right, doing favours, silently pushing himself into the meetings he didn't belong into, playing a silly fool for all those high lords - it was really a masterpiece.

Petyr Baelish somehow managed to become the key-holder to the entire kingdom over night and nobody knew how.

Even more telling; nobody even _knew_ he was one.

Tywin sighed and looked directly at the guest. There; without title or land, this little man stood in front of one of the most powerful men in Westeros like it was nothing. Usually men oozed some nervous aura when faced with The Warden of the West but - not this one.  
Not only did he _stand_ , he stood as an equal player. 

"My Lord, it's quite a tent you've got. Makes war seem... inspiring." Baelish immediately started. "Men, unfortunately, don't understand the importance of interior decoration and the effect it has on followers."

Like playing a board game, Baelish complimented Tywin, put him above the rest, in the same breath positioned himself as someone seeing through the strategy of wealth and thus - someone who won't be fooled just like that.  
Tywin almost rolled his eyes at that.

"Yeah, yeah. Please, sit." He waved his hand and Petyr sat down faster than his whores did on King Robert's dick.

"The entire capital is greeting you." Petyr purred and readjusted the weight of his accounting book, "Your daughter has been looking quite radiant. Life of a Queen serves her well. Which is to be expected, of a Lannister."

"Lion is not our sigil in vain, Lord Baelish." Tywin didn't move his eyes away from the small man who almost started tapping his foot out of rush.

"Of course not. A magnificient animal with fur of..." Baelish stopped for a second, and then, so intently finished: "...gold."

"So that's what this visit is about." Tywin said in amusement as he got up. He kept his spine straight, gave himself a little stretch and slowly poured himself a glass of wine. He gave Lord Baelish a glance and didn't pass to notice how young man's mouth slightly opened at the sight of the golden goblet being filled.

Tywin didn't offer any.  
It wasn't wine that interested Baelish anyway.  
It was the taste of richness that he wanted.

"Well, The Crown is already quite in debt-" Baelish started and the corners of his lips spread; the Master of the Coin came well prepared to this begging session.  
He probably had the entire thing planned out. Usually Tywin would let him say it, they would exchange three sentences of discourse - not too much, not too little - and would bring the entire ordeal to the end. Littlefinger already knew Tywin will open the purse so the debt can be charged triple later - in this or another way.

"Is it now?" Tywin sat back and looked at Petyr who shuffled a bit, ready with a comeback.

"Well-."

"Tell me, Lord Baelish," Tywin took a sip from his goblet, "what makes the world go round?"

Littlefinger opened his mouth, but the old lion continued, "If you asked Robb Stark, the answer would be 'honour'. If you asked Catelyn Tully, the answer would be 'justice'. If you asked my precious daughter, the answer would be: 'that big chair important people sit in'." Tywin reached in his pocket.

"But you and me know the truth, Lord Baelish. What makes the world go round?" He procured a golden coin from his vest.

Petyr stared at him for a few seconds and then, at last, his lips spread into a sly smile, as his body relaxed.

"Money." He whispered.

Tywin looked at the coin and then at the young lord before him. The look in his eyes was a look of lust.  
No words Littlefinger ever said could mask the shine in his eye when he pulled his pieces.

The man made an amazing politics player, but a terrible poker one.

Slowly, like a flame, Tywin brought the hand closer and just like a moth - Littlefinger leaned in. It was so close; the gold, shiny surface... and he could almost see himself in it. Slick and sharp features - and suddenly it was like not even the tent, nor Tywin, nor Lannisters nor anything else existed beside him and the coin.

And then Tywin pulled the coin away, and the spell broke.  
Baelish was left sitting there in shocked disappointment.

"That's right. Money." The Lion confirmed and Baelish tightly balled his fists, rushing to recover his dignity.

"Gold." the younger man tried to add helpfully. This was the waltz they always danced; usually less open and honest, but both of them knew what this really was about.

"You are a business man. You know it barely matters who sits on that ugly throne." Tywin knocked on the table with his golden ring which Baelish followed with a hungry look.

It was actually quite entertaining. Tywin gave a few more experimental taps on the table and watched the quick eyes follow the shine of the gold, the symbol of power which that sneaky man never had. From rags to riches. Petyr Baelish.

Yet with all his wits, he got betrayed by his lusty eyes and lips, barely parting, excited by promises of titles and seduced by everything surrounded by him - the tent, the expensive red cloth, the golden embroidery of pillows.

"Lord Baelish, come here." Tywin procured the coin once again and Littlefinger's eyes immediately flew to it. He stood up slowly, the book still under his arm but kept loosely - threatening to fall out. He approached the table carefully, eyes fixed on the little shiny thing.

"No. Come _here_. To me." The Lion licked his lips and Littlefinger stood there for a few seconds, without direction, but then his legs moved to the left. Tywin leaned on the table. _Not there,_ his posture said, and it took a beat for Baelish to understand what the man was aiming at.

He climbed on the table with his knees and, with a thrash, war pieces and goblets were swept away by his legs. Petyr was master at handling unexpected situations - lies, tricks, changing the words. Puffs of smoke.  
Yet it didn't even occur to him that this situation should be handled - at all.

Instead, he swept his legs over and, following Tywin's gaze, lowered himself in his lap.

"Many men consider you a fool." Tywin said and the spell broke for a second. Petyr looked at him - the look in his eye apalled and insulted, the burden of frustration he wore wherever he went.

"But I don't." Tywin whispered and flicked the coin between his fingers, successfully drawing younger man's attention away again, "You know very well what all this comes to, Lord Baelish. All those lords... they all need money, they all need gold. And what do you do?"

"I give it." Petyr muttered and grabbed on Tywin's shoulders so he doesn't fall down.

"You give it. And nobody suspects how you control it. Like a river. You open and close the bridges and gates at your whim." Tywin leaned his head to the side. "And everyone oversees you. Littlefinger. That's how they call you."

The name made Petyr twitch in fury.  
Another flick of the coin, and his attention was on it within the second.

"I am just a servant of the Crown." he moaned, completely unconvincingly, and Tywin smirked in amusement.  
He never really thought about the lord before him - if he could even be called so - but it was endearing in a way. Like watching a cat play with string, trying to catch something unattainable.

"What are you ready to do for gold, Lord Baelish?" he asked, lifting the hem of Littlefinger's tunic. The man didn't seem to notice or mind, his head somewhere far away, in one of his fantasies.

"Anything." he breathed out and rubbed himself against Tywin's lap, "Lie. Cheat. Whatever I have to."

Twenty-nine years was still young. Inexperienced. Foolish enough to say things like these in front of others; but in reality, both of them knew it. So what if he said it out loud?

"Well, I've seen so." Tywin palmed him and Baelish lightly moaned.  
"It seems you're ready to whore as well, like your employees. A fine trade, indeed."

Baelish jumped like burnt at that, and away from Tywin's lap. He hit the table again, knocking down a few things that still miraculously stood there.

"I- no!"

"And let's say... if I offered you two of these shiny things?" Tywin took out another coin.  
"What- of course not! Who do you take me for?" Petyr spat. The anger in his chest fired up at the realization he was being played - like always - by all those high and mighty lords. By Lannister himself.

"And let's say..." Tywin mused, "what if I offered you... Harrenhal?"

This made the young man stop and actually think.  
"Harrenhal." he mumbled.

"You see, Lord Baelish." Tywin leant forward with a knowing smile, "And now, that we have established who you are - let's negotiate the price."


	2. First coins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not really related to the previous one... I just wanted to write more. 🥺

Tywin Lannister remembered Petyr Baelish from many years ago.

The - (really, what else?) - over-glorified accountant of the kingdom met with the mighty Lord Lannister back when he was still just a young lad, smaller than most men. Even at the age of 20, it was obvious Petyr would never grow an inch more than he already did.

And even back then, Tywin saw something sleazy in the way the young man carried himself. Sleazy or not, it's not like he was a threat to anyone. He seemed like just a silly boy who knew how to do maths; and perhaps it would've stayed at that if there wasn't for the odd way his smirks crooked in the corner of his lips.  
Most men overlooked it and went on to laugh at "Littlefinger", but not Tywin Lannister. You don't become one of the most powerful men in Seven Kingdoms by overlooking details like that.

"And what do you want... Baelish?" Tywin asked from his chair that day, leaned on his hand, waiting for the day and endless demands from peasants to be finally over.

" _Lord_ Baelish." the young man quickly corrected him.

Tywin stared at him for a few seconds. "...Sure. What gives you the right to call yourself such?"

"My father's death and my land." Baelish nodded. "And the lordship granted to me by Lord Tully."

"Well, call yourself as you wish." Tywin answered, unimpressed. "It won't change who you are."

"On the contrary, my lord," Baelish slyly smiled, "I'd say we change who we are quite well. And quite often. My grandfather was a simple sellsword from Braavos - not a great man. My father was a hedge knight. And I am here - in front of you with a book and feather, instead of sword. I'm afraid I have not inherited his talent for violence."

"What an exciting history. A mighty house it is, if I have never heard of it." Lannister sighed and waved his hand, encouraging the visitor to get to the point.

"You will, one day." the young man said with confidence. "However, I am here to ask your lordship for a grant." his eyes suddenly sparked.

"And what about Lord Tully?" Tywin replied, staring at the beggar, slightly interested. Well, maybe not like every other - confidence like this often brought wings to ordinary men.

"Things with Lord Tully are a bit... complicated." Baelish bit his lip. "However, I do have papers that vouch for my skills. I've made him quite a coin. Triple as any collecter. Surely a man like you," here the man dared to look Tywin straight in the eye - "would know to appreciate such talents."

"A grant. To a man with no land, and in disgrace of his Lord."

"Well, that's untrue, my Lord. I have land." Baelish purred wickedly, "It's seven acres."

"You need money to redecorate seven acres of land?" Tywin now laughed. He had apparently overestimated the fool in front of himself.

"No. I need money to redecorate only _one_ acre of land." Baelish smiled peacefully. "But not on my birth ground. Not in the damp tower I have. Have you ever seen a professional pleasure establishment do business in _Fingers_?"

Tywin simply rose his eyebrow.  
"Professional pleasure establishment. A whorehouse, you mean." he added, amused.

"As I said, my grandfather was from Braavos."

Tywin tapped his fingers against the chair arm, taking in the entirety of the man before him. Small, lean, with little beard and moustache and smile which looked so falsely friendly. Many would overlook it but - when the man's lips smiled, his eyes did not.

"There are whorehouses left and right."

"Would you rather have your son fuck wenches in Fleabottom-"

" _Be. Careful._ " Tywin hissed, but the man simply continued: "-or in silk and pillows, golden embroidery and incense smoke?" the words had a distant mocking tone to them. "I offer an experience, not just sex. Any dirty bitch can fuck. But I am something else."

"First of all." Tywin repositioned himself in the chair, "Next time you speak about my family in such way I will have a guard cut off your tongue. You are lucky I find you somewhat interesting. But my patience is short."

Baelish quickly turned around and snapped his fingers. Three girls walked in, wearing silk robe - the last of coin he had, invested in making hills of it, as he hoped.

"Well, let them speak instead of me, then." he said and gleefuly looked at them. "I've trained them myself. No lord would ever miss something in my establishments."

"Now did you?"

"I did." The young man nodded quickly. "Allow me to show it to you."

Tywin looked outside the window. It was late in the day; the sky was just starting to turn pink; well, as pink as it could behind the veil of gray clouds and mist. He sighed, weighing his options. He could keep this man here - if nothing, at least the chatter was somewhat entertaining - or he could continue solving his peasant's troubles.

"Polliver," at last he said, "Clear out the crowd in front the door. Tell them I won't be seeing anyone for the rest of the day."

The man nodded and hopped away.

Baelish wickedly smiled and snapped his fingers, like he was calling cats over. The girls sensually approached him, each prettier than the other - wide hips and fashion like from Qarth - their skin soft and cared for. Nothing like usual wenches that could be found in bordels.  
Most pimps lacked _feeling for it_.

"So - show me how you trained them." Tywin gestured with his hand and Baelish immediately turned to the red-haired one.

"As we've practiced. Show the Lord what you know." He took a step back. The girl took a step forward with a small giggle, her feet bare, gliding over the smooth stone.

"No." Tywin rose his hand. "I said - show me how _you_ trained them."

Baelish froze.  
"Well-."

"Well? I need to know what exactly I'm investing in."

"Well- get out." he swallowed and showed the girls back. They carefully stepped away and out the door.

The young man stood there, at loss what to do.  
"And what guarrantees me you'll give me the grant?" he carefully asked. "Or shall we trade in secrets? Lord Tywin Lannister, asking for favours from another man."

"What a gossip." Tywin replied with disinterest. "I am sure everyone will believe the pater of... _House Baelish_ from a damp tower in Riverrun."

Baelish clicked his tongue in displease and snapped his fingers away, sending the girls back through the door. He took a step forward, like a cat, and walked up the stairs to the golden seat. It was prettier - it commanded much more respect than the ugly grey mass they called The Iron Throne. Tywin spread his legs and crossed his fingers at his chest.

"What is the point of this?" Baelish knelt in front the mighty man and put hands on his knees. Tywin got to look him better now - slick face and cat-like eyes. He had never met him before, but even he could hear snickers behind that man's back that followed him since birth.  
He gently unlaced Tywin's breeches. "At least you, my Lord, of all men know the importance of money."

"I am not a businessman." Tywin's eyes shined with dangerous glee, "I am a lord. There is a difference. I do not invest. I do not have 'business associates'. I do not do favours for 'profit'. I don't need it - I literally sit on gold." he moved his hand forward and grabbed the young man's hair. A moan escaped him as he was pulled up, closer to Tywin's cock.

"You are not better than a spice merchant from Lys." Tywin hissed, his grip tightening. "Yet you come here - and then you insult my family. If I held your views - I would already have killed half of them, the useless lot. But they're family."

Baelish whined now from pain and gritted his teeth, staring at the scary apparition before him. It was only then he saw the bright blue eyes from close. But instead of looking away like most men did - he returned the stare.

They looked at each other like that for a few seconds, and then Tywin shoved him away.

"Go on. Speak to my sinecure." he crossed his legs.

Baelish coughed, grabbing his throat.

"So - that's a yes?"

"Go on. Make your coin. It won't make you a lord anyway." Tywin shrugged, got up, and refilled his goblet. "Try to remember it."

Baelish looked like he would bite back, the shame of being treated like a fool stinging his heart - but instead he forced on a smile and bowed.

"I'll make sure to repay you, my Lord."

"Don't burden yourself. It does not matter to me." Tywin said and looked through the window. "There are things more valuable than gold."

"There, indeed, are." Baelish agreed in an odd, dark voice - and he walked out, not turning around.


End file.
